The Duke's Brother

by Claudia Stone

  A man of nearly forty years, Sebastian found Briggs bent intently over a ledger of figures, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  “It doesn’t inspire confidence in a man when he sees his accounts being glared at angrily Briggs,” Sebastian said casually, causing the Briggs to jump. He evidently had not heard him come in.

  “The takings from one of the tables doesn’t add up right,” Briggs replied, reaching into a drawer in his desk and producing two chipped crystal tumblers. He took a bottle of brandy and poured two generous measures, proffering the glass to Sebastian who took it reluctantly – he wasn’t a big drinker, especially not in the afternoon.

  “Do you think its accidental or do you suspect a slight of hand?” Sebastian asked carefully. Huge sums of money crossed the tables of Nuit Noire every night. The staff were treated exceptionally well and their remuneration was more than what most gaming hells offered, and then some. Treating his workers well meant that they were more likely to remain loyal to the club than seek to line their own pockets with pilfered takings.

  “There’s a new lad on the table,” Briggs conceded; “He’s a bit green yet, I’m not sure if it’s stupidity or greed, but I’ll keep an eye.”

  Sebastian nodded, allowing Briggs to close the topic. He relied greatly on Brigg’s managerial skills and knew to let the man handle the situation his own way.

  “Have you ever heard anything about a Lord Epsom?” Sebastian asked casually, moving the conversation along quickly. If Brigg’s had heard of him then there was a chance that Epsom was involved in the seedy underworld that the aristocracy so loved to play in.

  But Briggs just shook his head; “No, can’t say I have. Why?”

  “Oh just wondering. His nephew originally held the title – but he disappeared after Waterloo.”

  “And is someone now claiming to be the nephew, returned from the dead?” Briggs asked curiously. Such things were not unheard of – usurpers looking to claim a title or exploit a grieving relative.

  “No it’s the opposite,” Sebastian responded, still puzzling out the situation; “His sister claims to have seen him walking near the Seven Dials – but if he was alive and living in London why would the lad not try and claim his title?”

  “Perhaps he doesn’t remember who he is Mr. Black,” Briggs replied; “There was a story like that in La Belle Assemblée, about a soldier who got hit on the head and forgot who he was.”

  Sebastian struggled to keep the corners of his mouth down as a smile tugged at them; La Belle Assemblée was a Ladies’ Periodical filled with fluff and fashion – not the type of reading material he associated with the rough Mr. Briggs.

  As though reading his mind Briggs gave an embarrassed cough.

  “Of course, he could be on a mission of some sort for the crown Mr. Black,” Briggs said pointedly, as though to remind Sebastian that both of them had served during the war as occasional spies for the War Office.

  “He’s not the type of man that Whitehall would choose, though is he?” Sebastian mused, almost to himself. Spies were men with no families and nothing to lose. Men like him and Briggs; orphaned gutter rats that no one would miss – albeit gutter rats who had made something of themselves. Sebastian’s fleet of ships had come in useful in service to the Crown during the long war with Napoleon, and he had braved many assignations to France to retrieve an injured soldier or a coded message.

  “I think your first suggestion is probably closer to the mark,” Sebastian continued, placing his still full tumbler back onto Briggs’ desk; “I know I don’t need to remind you that all of this is confidential old friend?”

  The older man nodded, he was the definition of discretion and Sebastian knew he would take any secret he was told to the grave.

  “And I shall of course keep your choice in reading materials to myself,” Sebastian added with a wicked smile as he walked out the door, chuckling to himself at Briggs’ grumbling reply which followed him down the stairs.

  Aurelia stifled a sigh of annoyance as she waited for Lady Caroline to try on yet another bonnet. The older woman had graciously accepted her brothers’ insisting that she take Aurelia on as a companion – but had failed to understand that it was just a ruse to keep Aurelia safe. Instead, the moment that Aurelia had unpacked and was settled back into the room that she had left only the day before, Lady Caroline had insisted that they spend the afternoon shopping.

  Escorted by two footmen Lady Caroline and Aurelia spent hours in the Pall Mall premises of Messrs. Harding, Howell & Co. Linen Drapers, searching for the perfect fabric for Lady Caroline’s new dress before heading for Fleet Street and Waltman and Sons Haberdashery, where Lady Caroline needed to collect a bonnet.

  The proprietor, obviously recognising a Lady with means, had insisted on showing Lady Caroline some new ribbons – just in from Paris! – to adorn her bonnet. Aurelia bit her lip as the salesman pulled yet another ream of ribbon – almost indistinguishable from the last – out for Lady Caroline to inspect. Fearing that she was going to scream at her hostess, Aurelia took herself away to the front of the shop, taking deep calming breaths as she walked.

  The window display consisted of several outlandish hats in vibrant colours to draw the eye of passing shoppers. Aurelia was affecting interest in a straw Capote, when the bell over the door tinkled merrily to signal a new customer.

  Perhaps it was the breeze that caused Aurelia to look up, but when she did she most fervently wished she hadn’t for she was staring straight into the face of her Aunt, Lady Epsom.

  “Oh,” Aurelia took a step backwards in shock, toppling over the many hat stands and causing uproar in the process. The three sales assistants and Lady Caroline’s two footmen descended upon her to sort out the beribboned mess of hats, and Lady Epsom sensing an opportunity grabbed her errant niece by the elbow.

  “Oh I do apologize,” she tinkled, in her false falsetto, to Mr. Waltman and his assistants who were bending to retrieve their upended goods from the floor. “My nice…well she’s not well. Not well in the head.”

  Lady Epsom raised her eyebrows to Mr. Waltman and made a discreet “crazy” gesture with her hand to indicate that Aurelia was not quite the full shilling. Aurelia found herself momentarily speechless with outrage, as with just a few words, the brittle thin Lady Epsom had everyone convinced – once more- that she belonged in Bedlam. Her Aunt’s vice like fingers were digging painfully into Aurelia’s elbow as she subtly began to drag her towards the door, outside which Aurelia could see the family carriage waiting at the side of the footpath.

  “Unhand Miss St. Claire at once,” Lady Caroline spoke with the innate authority that only a daughter of one of the highest peers of the realm could muster. Lady Epsom dropped Aurelia’s elbow instantly, startled by the refined voice, and turned to face the person who had spoken to her in such a commanding manner. If there was one thing her Aunt appreciated, Aurelia thought dryly, it was societal rank.

  “Why,” Lady Epsom said, her voice now ingratiating as she realised it was Lady Caroline who had spoken; “My Lady, I did not see you there.”

  “Evidently not,” Caroline sniffed haughtily; “For you were trying to kidnap my companion from right under my nose.”

  “Companion?” Lady Epsom looked from Aurelia to Caroline, her mouth open in horror.

  “Yes Miss St. Claire is my very dear companion,” Lady Caroline said airily, pulling Aurelia back towards her, and planting her by her side; “And she is not going anywhere with you.”

  Lady Epsom’s mouth opened and closed in shock, making her appear toad like. Her shock soon turned to fury however, and she stepped forward, her voice low and menacing.

  “I am sorry to have to tell you Lady Caroline,” she whispered, her sickly-sweet concern belied by the red patches of anger on her cheeks. “But my niece is not well. Not well at all. She sees things which are not there and her physician agrees that she should be sent away for a rest. For everyone’s safety.”

  To Lady Caroline’s credit she did
not flinch at the force of Lady Epsom’s final statement, which had caused the shop assistants to reel back in horror from the apparently violent delinquent that was Aurelia. Instead, Caroline gave Aurelia’s Aunt such a look of derision that it was a wonder Lady Epsom did not melt into a puddle of shame that very second.

  “There is nothing wrong with Miss St. Claire’s mental state,” Caroline said, her restrained, polite tones almost menacing they were so controlled.

  “The girl must have you fooled my Lady,” came the stuttering, nervous response as Aurelia’s Aunt clutched nervously at the string of pearls around her neck, whilst glaring at her errant niece.

  “It sounds like you are accusing me of being a fool Lady Epsom,” Caroline said, linking her arm through Aurelia’s and making to leave the shop.

  “I and my friends do not suffer accusations of being foolish lightly Lady Epsom,” Caroline called over her shoulder as they left, followed by the parcel laden footmen; “You would do well to remember that.”

  Before the door shut Aurelia had the pleasure of seeing her Aunt pale at Caroline’s veiled threat; as the daughter of a Marquess, Caroline far outranked the Lady Epsom and her social influence amongst the ton was much greater than that of the wife of a Baron.

  And threatening Lady Epsom’s social standing was a far more fearful prospect to her Aunt than even Newmarket prison, Aurelia thought as she clambered into the carriage. Today may not have led her any closer to Sebastian, but at least she now felt that the threat of Bedlam was receding.

  Lord Epsom was not what Sebastian had been expecting. In his mind’s eye he had envisioned a Claudius like usurper, with calculating, evil eyes. What he found instead, in the drawing room of Boodles, snoozing in a wing backed chair – was a rather soft looking plump gentleman, with the fair colouring of his niece.

  “It’s a bit early to be sleeping Epsom,” Sebastian said, as he took in the seat opposite his prey, watching as the older man’s eyes opened sleepily. It seemed to take a moment for Epsom to register where he was, and then another moment for him to recognize the man sitting opposite him.

  “Mr. Black, I don’t believe we’ve met,” Epsom said, a confused look upon his face, his blonde moustache twitching. Sebastian kept his voice low, so that the other members – curious to actually see him inside the club which he so infrequently visited – would not overhear what he was about to say.

  “I claim no connection to you my Lord,” he said softly, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees; “I do however claim a connection to your niece – who now resides as a guest of the Marquess of Sutherland and his sister.”

  “What?” Lord Epsom sat up startled; “Aurelia is living with Sutherland. Why that’s preposterous. That’s ridiculous. I – I – I should call him out.”

  Lord Epsom stood to his feet, the day’s paper which had been resting on his lap falling onto the oriental carpet.

  “Sit down,” Sebastian hissed, aware that several of Boodle’s less deaf members had their ears pricked at the sound of a scandal. Reluctantly Lord Epsom sank back onto the stuffed cushion of his chair, glaring at Sebastian.

  “You have no right to call Sutherland out when he’s done more to protect your nieces name than you have,” Sebastian growled, noting that Lord Epsom now looked rather nervous. “You’ve threatened to have her thrown into Bedlam. Employed drunks to kidnap her and criminals to ransack the home of her friend. I would go so far as to say that you have no interest in your niece’s welfare at all, only your own.”

  “Pah,” Lord Epsom nearly spat; “And what’s your interest in the girl Mr. Black?

  What was his interest in Aurelia St. Claire? For one second Sebastian was stumped. True, he wished to solve the mystery of the Lazarus-like reappearance of Theo St. Claire, but was there something else? His mind flickered back to earlier that day, when his heart had beaten a deafening tattoo in his ears, as his head bent towards the luscious lips of Miss St. Claire…If his cousin hadn’t walked in he would have kissed her most thoroughly, of that Sebastian was sure. Could he say for certain that his intentions towards Aurelia were completely honourable – or was his judgment hazed by desire?

  “Miss St. Claire is a dear friend of my cousin, Lady Beaufort,” Sebastian replied slowly, keeping his expression neutral; “And as such I consider her to be my friend too. I will not stand idly by and watch you try to bully and intimidate her. I believe her when she says that her brother is alive, and mark my words Epsom I will find out what it is you have done to that young man to keep him from his rightful inheritance.”

  Sebastian pushed his chair back and stood, adopting his most menacing gaze.

  “You have made an enemy of me Epsom,” he said, loud enough for the other members to hear; “And that is not something to take lightly.”

  With that he swept from the room, aware that this scene would probably cost him his membership at the club – though that in itself was a bonus.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  .

  In the space of the carriage ride from Pall Mall to St. James’ – which wasn’t very long – Lady Caroline and Aurelia became the fastest of friends. Caroline was married to a politician called Bernard Gives, who was quite high up in the foreign office. He had spent the last year in Vienna with the Duke of Blackmore negotiating the peace treaty with the French. And while the Duke had recently returned to England, Mr. Gives had stayed to sort out lingering issues of bureaucracy.

  Aurelia was about to ask why Lady Caroline had not accompanied Mr. Gives on his foreign expedition, but then remembered a rumour that she had heard about the couple: that their marriage was not a happy one. She felt a rush of affection for the lady seated opposite her, for despite being a little bit frivolous, Lady Caroline was a good person.

  “So you will stay with your brother until your husband returns?” Aurelia questioned brightly, continuing on the conversation.

  “Yes, I think so,” Lady Caroline replied with a shrug; “I could not bear to rattle around our own big house by myself, and I have cared for Gabriel since our parents died. I know he is nearly thirty years of age but to me he is still a child.”

  The ladies entered Sutherland House to find Lady Caroline’s “child” fencing in the cavernous entrance hall, parrying his opponents attack quite easily.

  “Caroline,” Sutherland said happily, lifting his mask and dismissing his opponent with a wave of his gloved hand; “Splendid timing, I was just about to perish from starvation.”

  Lady Caroline rolled her eyes at her brother’s exaggeration.

  “Was that one of the stable boys Gabriel?” she scolded, as she removed her fur stole and handed it without a backwards glance to her footman, who was -as always - one step behind her; “I’ve told you that you mustn’t force the servants into playing at swords with you. It’s not fair.”

  “But he said he wanted to,” Gabriel protested, appearing to Aurelia like a small child who had been scolded by his mother.

  “Well of course he’s going to say he that he wanted to Gabriel,” Caroline huffed; “You are his employer, the poor lad probably feels he can’t say no. Why can’t you play with Sebastian like you usually do?”

  “He’s gone to change for dinner,” Sutherland grumbled,then glanced at Aurelia; “He said he’s lots to tell us about your Uncle when he returns.”

  “Oh, very good,” Aurelia said breathlessly, uncomfortable with how quickly her heart started to pound at the mention of Sebastian’s name; “I had best change as well my Lady.”

  With a small curtsy to Caroline, Aurelia fled up the sweeping staircase, her progress followed by the eyes of the many portraits which lined the walls.

  In her bedroom she took extra care with her toilette – which was saying something as her Governess had strictly enforced the idea that cleanliness is next to Godliness when she was growing up - to the point that she often scrubbed her skin raw. She then tied back her hair in an elegant chignon, allowing a few stray curls escape to frame her face. The dress sh
e chose was made of lawn, and so new that it was still perfectly white. It’s empire style flattered her modest bosom, and framed her slight, elegant figure perfectly. As she surveyed herself in the mirror Aurelia decided she was very happy that she had chosen to pack it on the night she fled her Uncle’s home - then immediately scolded herself for thinking of such trivialities as looks whilst she still had no idea where Theo was.

  The gong sounded, announcing dinner, and Aurelia tripped down the staircase on quick feet, eager to hear what news Mr. Black might have of her brother.

  “Of Theo himself, I have little to tell you,” Sebastian said seriously, regarding her across the table after the quartet had finished their main course; “I did however set a tail on your Uncle. We had a rather heated conversation in Boodle’s, and it’s my hope that in his upset he will go to where ever it is he has hidden your brother - if he is hiding him - to make sure he is still there.”

  “So you believe he has hidden Theo in some kind of prison?” Aurelia asked,her delight at the thought that her brother might still be alive dampening as she imagined him locked in some seedy cellar.

  “I can’t say,” Sebastian replied honestly; “He may have your brother imprisoned, he may be bribing him somehow - it is impossible to know. But please believe me when I tell you that we are closer to finding him.”

  “Thank you Mr. Black,” Aurelia felt a rush of affection for the brooding man sat opposite her. For a mad moment, she was filled with an urge to push back the chair and fling her arms around his neck, but a delicate cough from Lady Caroline reminded her of where she was and so she restrained herself.

  “We met Miss St. Claire’s Aunt today Sebastian,” Caroline said; “A wretched woman indeed, she has made a grave mistake treating her niece the way she has.”

  “Brr,” Lord Sutherland gave an exaggerated shiver; “I just felt an arctic wind blowing through London. You sound like you’ve plans to excommunicate Lady Epsom from society dear sister.”